Day: 176

So without the time to get everything cleaned up and dried last night, I took it upon myself to suggest I stay in Pueto Natales to catch up on things and start fresh tomorrow.

This was a spectacular idea, until about 5:30pm, when I had done 4 days of blogging, bought a bus ticket for tomorrow to Punta Arenas, had clean clothes, drank three coffees, ate lunch and took a walk with Eleanor, showered, repacked my bag which was still slightly damp, and took a mean-ass 2 hour afternoon nap then woke up around 5:30 completely bored. I walked this tiny town at least a dozen time hoping something new and interesting would spring up, but to no avail. Can’t wait for the bus at 9:30 tomorrow. Kind of weird to be excited about a bus…

At least I get to see penguins soon!

Day: 175

With the combined effort of the entire Cape Horn storm front and enough water to raise the Ark out of those obscure Russian mountains The Weather has crashed down on our Hero.  Armed only with his Boy Scout wits, his Olympiad puddle dodging skills, and the second worst tent ever made (the first being the old army tent I was force to sleep in through a East Coast hurricane for 10 days in 1993);our hero awakens to the once soothing sound of rain on his tent. The sound is no longer soothing as a small stream has took up residence next to his head whilst he slept.  Trying to decide his next play against this formidable Nemesis, he decides to duck out of his tent for a quick piss in the woods.

Slightly relieved, even before the impending doom that is his fate, he looks to the sky and curses in futility.

“Fuck”

Choices must be made quickly; make for the water or the road. The road is longer but won’t inflict the pain upon our shrinking funds, the water is a weapon of the enemy but has a boat and hot coffee… Where to turn? With no Choose Your Adventure readers to make decisions for him, he turns to page 109 on his own, rolls his drenched-muddy-tent, throws his last remaining dry clothes in a shopping bag, slings it all on his back, and sets off to use his puddle dodging skills to there best.  His shoes last 30 minutes before the trail has become a river, his sweater makes it 15 more before it is thoroughly soaked from dripping bushes that slapped their wet leaves against him with a vengeance.

Then there’s a woman; every story has a woman.  On the trail ahead she is taking part in the battle against the same enemy as the Hero.  Quickly joining forces, moral improves.  Stories of their own struggles are shared, bring relief that each one is not alone. The battle is far from over; shoes are overflowing with liquid, squishing with every movement; bones are chilled with the strongest weapon of The Weather, sliding down slopes covered in mud, and the backs are aching with the weight extra water that is saturating everything they own.

But alas, on the horizon the dock is in sight. only a short ways to go and victory would be ours. sort of.

Soon the Hero’s were greeted with a warm cup of coffee and a welcome only due those returning from vicious battle. Yet it was only a reprieve, and they knew it, the day would involve a struggle to fight with other champions for a seat on the only boat away from this horrendous power.  Then spend the rest of the day on a bus filled with similarly soaked victims, breathing that stench of people who haven’t bathed in days and are now soaked to the bone, shivering, in want of being anywhere but where they are.

Our Hero has made another narrow escape this day, possibly because the Weather did not realize the weakness of the pinkish-white flesh of our Hero to the hole in the ozone layer and the combined effort of the Andean sun, thus never unleashing it’s ultimate weapon on this rugged adventurer. The day ends as it should, with a glass of wine, a hot meal and a shower.

Day: 174

I find rain on a tent one of the most soothing sounds in the world to sleep to. The only problem is that that in the morning everything is soaking wet well you pack your bag. I was up earlier than anyone else in the campground (I too found this amazing), was packed and on the trail by 7:30am.

By 9:30am I was at the next trailhead/campground, where you set up camp and do a 11 mile day hike up into Valle del Frances (French Valley) to see what is supposedly the most amazing view of the entire park. My wet tent was up in a matter of minutes and I was crouched over my backpack rummaging around for breakfast, when I glance up at someone walking by. I stare for a second and said.

“Jasper”

He blinked, paused, and said:

“Wow, last I checked up on you , you were in Costa Rica”

Neither of us seemed to take it as exceptionally weird the we set up camp within 20 ft of each other, with no plans to, after not seeing each other since the airport in Istanbul, 10,000 miles away last April.

A side note, For those of you new to “Mom Says…”: Jasper and I meant in the South of Turkey last March, Traveled for about a week together along with another fellow name Akbar, and he was present for the highly controversial “Crockery Heaving” incident of 06′.

I meandered over to his site with my breakfast, shared a camping pan full of tea and caught up on the last 10 months of each others travels.

I still wanted to get my hike in (even through the clouds), and he was taking an easy day. Sometime after 11am I set off, promising to come sit under his tarp and share dinner around his camp stove (bonus for me! Hot food!).

I hike for a few hours and near the top I meant a couple other friends from a few days ago, Alejandro (The Socialist-Italian) and Amanda (German), they were headed down and seeing as we would all be back in Puerto Natales tomorrow night we made plans to meet up then. It wasn’t quite the same surprise bumping into them, I knew they were somewhere on the trail and figured I would find them somewhere. I am surely becoming popular, dinner invites two nights in a row!

I made it to the summit (sweating) for the “best” views of Torres del Paine, saw nothing. I decided to give it an hour to see if the weather would clear, I wrote this entry out, ate some chocolate, aired out my smelly feet, then finally gave it up and set off, disgruntled, down the mountain again. The clouds were moving in and by the time I made it back to camp the deluge had started. Dinner was spent with three of us huddled under a small tarp around a camp stove trying to decide the best use of our ingredients: crackers, salami, powdered split pea soup mix, powdered milk, dried tortellini, a can of tuna, some raisins, and a few tea bags. At least there would be plenty of water.

Day: 173

Round trip bus ticket from Puerto Natales to Torres del Paine National Park: 12,000 pesos ($24)

Entrance fee to what is hailed as South America’s greatest national park: 15,000 pesos ($30)

Catamaran ride across the lake to the trailhead: 11,000 pesos ($22)

Three days of tent and sleeping bag rental: 15,000 pesos ($30)

Camping site: 3,500 pesos ($7)

10 mile hike: Free

Not being able to see the pride of the park, The Torres del Paine towers, because of the weather: Priceless…

Crap. It has started to rain.